Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

MADELINE

"Dr. Smith?"

"Yes?" Madeline blurted out nervously as she looked at her colleagues, afraid she had been caught gawking at the handsome man on the tourism bus that passed them. The last thing she needed before she gave her notice was to make an absolute fool of herself – and she sure didn't need Travis to be the one to ‘bust' her on it.

No, things were over with Travis, and they had been for quite a while. Her mother had told her not to ‘mess where you eat', meaning keep work and love separate… and she had ignored the advice. Dating Travis had been a nightmare that she couldn't escape from. The man who was polite, kind, and courteous turned out to be possessive, domineering, and capable of some very borderline unethical things.

Inviting your girlfriend to fly home on vacation was one thing, but asking her to take photos or smuggle out a few coins found on a dig site was quite another.

Yeah, that had not been a good conversation, and Madeline felt stuck. He was her boss and had threatened to spread the word in their small community that she was unethical in dating him. He'd put enough push, enough force behind the comment that she was scared to lose her footing in a career she loved – until now.

She had several more digs scheduled with the team before her new position in New York would be ready. The exhibit was looking for an archeological historian who could read Egyptian hieroglyphs to work with the anthropology department at a local college. She would also be speaking and holding tours of the new wing the museum was opening this fall. It was a dream come true for anyone in the field.

Nobody was Indiana Jones. There was no Temple of Doom , unless it was your student loans after graduation. She had been a starry-eyed innocent girl imagining that she would discover some unearthed tomb and be hailed as a world-famous archeologist and historian.

That wasn't the case.

No, within a week of being on her first dig, that pink frothy bubble of imagery had popped when a camel hocked a loogy directly at her, landing on the front of her sweat-stained shirt.

Oh, the memories… she smirked.

"Dr. Smith, is something on your mind before we head out?" Travis began again, and her breakfast turned in her stomach. Why had she agreed to meet up with everyone at the café?

This wasn't a casual group of friends. They were strangers and coworkers, and the rotation of faces on the dig site was always changing. People left, quit, came and went, in the most shocking fashion, but probably due to management – which was why she was leaving herself.

"No, no, of course not. I was just looking at that brightly colored van, wondering why it was on the side streets instead of the highway," she fibbed easily.

That was the one thing Travis had taught her during their six-month relationship – make the lies believable with an element of truth to them. Travis would tell her all the time before a conference call or meeting, ‘If you can substantiate part of it, it makes it easier to believe' – and he'd said the same thing when he asked her to smuggle something back to the States. There was no ‘ line in the sand ' for him – and that scared her. It was obvious that he could justify telling a lie, making it believable. When he threatened her – his words went straight to her soul.

"Then shall we head out?" Travis smiled easily, and she nodded as the others rose to their feet. Let him think he has the upper hand, and keep your secrets close to your chest.

She was already lying to him almost on a daily basis to keep his advances at bay. The man was still insisting that they try to rekindle things between them, and ‘we work together' wasn't cutting it anymore for the pushy man. No, this last lie had been a whopper that had stuck in her throat, and her lack of conviction had caused his eyes to squint at her skeptically as his lips flattened in annoyance.

Yeaaaah, time to go, she thought quietly as she slipped into one of the vehicles lined up on the street nearby to take them out to the pyramids, where she was working diligently on translating a wall of glyphs that they had opened last year. In fact, there had been a massive television event of the area being ‘untombed' on live television, where, in truth, it had been open for a week.

Another ‘Travis-ism' sprang to mind.

Things are not what they seem; they are what you convince people to see – and once you know the difference, things will go so much smoother, Madeline .

Looking out the window to the streets as they drove, she idly pictured what New York City would be like. Even the roughest neighborhoods would have her watching her back less than this place. Here, there were grave robbers, pickpockets, liars, and thieves lurking behind every corner it seemed. Her papers had been stolen, her computer broken, her apartment vandalized, and even her purse was taken from a ‘secure' dig site – only to show up later, untouched. Yeah, being told she was ‘negative' or ‘imagining things' didn't help the situation.

Finish your digs, Maddie, and then hightail it far away. Start over, build different connections, make friends, and change your life, she mused painfully, swallowing.

She loved her job and loved the history, but the glorious tales of noble events, of heroes and kings were obviously of a time long since passed. Men and women had known their places and their roles, protected and cared for their families, praised their gods, and held fast to their honor. People once treasured their family names so much that they built relics to pass down their tales, tombs to make their mark on time, created legacies.

"And I'm surrounded by the exact opposite," she muttered under her breath, brokenly, and closed her eyes, wishing for something… different .

Hours later, Madeline was standing on a platform with spotlights behind her, taking photos and documenting her notes – confused.

She had been working on this section of wall, nearly fifteen feet high in this antechamber inside one of the pyramids, but something was different. Flipping back several pages in her leather notebook, she began scanning her scrawled handwriting that she would type up later.

Panel AG of the northern facing wall in the queen's chamber is fantastically unblemished and free from sediment. The painting on the glyphs has not faded much, but some discoloration to the pigments is present. Corresponding photos dated May 17th for reference. It is unusual to see markings such as these, and the guy on The History Channel is gonna have a field day with this one…

Madeline chuckled at her own candid notes as she continued to scan looking for signs of cracking, water intrusion, damaged facias, or anything else commenting on what was before her now. Part of the wall she had been working on translating was missing . There was no debris or rubble on the floor beneath the scaffold she was standing on, which meant that it didn't ‘fall off' last night. It was like it was never there, but she remembered it clearly.

It had been an elegant cartouche, almost like a signature, near a carving of what looked like a helicopter floating beside a sun, or a landspeeder from Star Wars. It was exceedingly unusual, but one like this had been discovered in Seti the First's tomb as well. It had just struck her because she could see the Ancient Aliens episode in her mind and had thought it was funny. Secretly, she really wanted to meet some of those guys off-camera and talk to them about some of their theories, and what mousse he used in his hair.

"How's it going, Madeline? "

Travis's voice carried in the cavernous room, causing her to roll her eyes. This was not what she needed right now. The voices of tourists were already echoing loudly – some more than others. Why people brought babies out here to visit the tombs, she would never understand but the screaming one somewhere nearby was a brutal auditory reminder of how freaking stifling it was where she was working.

"Oh, fine. Just humming right along, Dr. Hatt and please, use my title to keep things professional at work."

"Of course, Dr. Smith."

And Madeline paused, aiming her head toward the journal of notes in her hand, but could still see him standing there out of the corner of her eye. Why was he hovering? Turning, she looked directly at him.

"Is there something you wanted to discuss?"

"Don't you miss… us?"

There was something in his voice, something that made her hesitate and wonder if she had him all wrong. When he was kind and charming, Travis was every girl's wish come true. Dark hair, pale hazel eyes, a beautiful smile, with an intelligence that screamed attraction, but when he was upset or cornered, the rabid sneaky liar fought back however he could. It was almost like he was two different people inhabiting the same body – and it was hard to deal with.

"Dr. Hatt," she began and saw his deepening frown, already bracing herself. "I treasure the memories of a very good friendship and hope it doesn't affect our working one," she replied gently, hoping her tone would calm him down and keep him off the scent that she was planning on leaving. "But I'm happy now, remember?"

And she was – but not in another relationship like she'd told him. No, she didn't have another boyfriend or significant other, but he certainly didn't need to know that.

"Where's he at?" Travis pushed, taking a step into the room aggressively. That solitary movement along with the reminder that Madeline was on a scaffold up in the air fifteen feet above a stone flooring, alone with him, was slamming to the forefront of her mind.

She felt cornered.

Threatened.

"I haven't seen you with him," he continued, taking another step into the room while she began calculating how fast she could climb down from her perch without falling. "You tell me you are going to dinner or that he's coming over, but I never see him with you."

"Are you having me followed?"

"You are a single woman, a beautiful woman, in a large city. Anything could happen to you, and I worry."

It was true. Madeline's safety was at the top of her list as well. She was always very conscientious of where she was, tried not to stay out late, and avoided making stupid mistakes like hanging around at the ATM or shopping by herself at the bazaars. Instead, she would get most of her shopping done with a neighbor in the building who was also by herself quite a bit due to her husband's job.

"I'm a very private person, and you know that," she began carefully, not wanting to get caught in a lie. "I keep to myself and my boyfriend is gone for long stretches of time," she fibbed, thinking of Fatima's own position.

"I see."

"Yeah, when he's gone, I just don't feel like going out much in town, so we communicate online via phone or email. He's pretty great, and I'm lucky to have him in my life – just like I'm lucky to work for an amazing boss like you," she tacked on quickly, smiling at him.

Travis looked at her and nodded, turning away just in time for Madeline to sag perceptibly. Every little comment, every quirk, and every red flag waving in her mind was just another reason to get the heck outta ‘Dodge'.

Turning back to the stone wall, she hid the camera before her and clicked back, humming loudly to hide the faint noises of the photos flipping with the faint auditory beeps that seemed so loud right now, and there it was. The evidence of the wall and the photo she had been looking for.

Someone had been in this room, used her workstation, and defaced the tomb. The missing piece was five inches wide but nearly a foot long, so it wasn't hard to miss.

Looking around quickly, she was searching for anything out of place. A chisel, a hammer, a camera, cloth, just anything at all. Something this size would have been heavy, but not unbearably, and it would have been hard to carry out unseen unless it was in a backpack or a briefcase.

And who did she report this to?

Travis? What if he was the one smuggling it? Did she contact the Egyptian government with her findings – and what would they do?

Madeline felt sick to her stomach as her mind worked through every possible scenario. She was a woman in a predominately Muslim country, a foreigner. Fears of being held for questioning for an undetermined time in some strange jail made her feel slightly faint. The government would immediately shut down the site, have the police out here, and start interviewing people, starting with Dr. Travis Hatt, the lead archeologist of the research team – and the biggest liar she'd ever met.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered fearfully and hesitated. The consulate! She'd go to the U.S. Consulate and report this, show them her findings, and have them work with the Egyptian government to get to the bottom of this. They would have her back, and she could hide there until she was out of the country, right? Or was that the stuff of fantasy and pipedreams?

Suddenly, the heat, the stifling air, and the echoes of voices were all too much for her. She needed to get to another room, hopefully where one of the vents to the tomb was located, so there was a breeze.

Climbing down carefully, she tucked her camera in her pocket and put her journal inside her buttoned shirt, praying it didn't show. This was her only evidence that it was there before – and it couldn't go missing like her purse or computer had done. She wasn't sure if it was all connected, but she also couldn't take the chance. No, something was very wrong – and she didn't want to be associated with it at all.

Exiting the chamber, Madeline looked up to see Travis walking up the shaft that led to the Grand Gallery of the pyramid. She did an about face, making her way further away from the nearest vent, toward the throngs of people touring one of the great wonders of the world. Hearing him shout her name, Madeline began to panic.

She felt like she was suffocating. Fear was plunging her forward blindly into the crowd, needing air and trying to get away from Travis. As she started into the stone stairwell that was barely three feet tall, she crouched – and bumped her forehead into someone else's painfully.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed and slapped a hand over the bruised spot, opening her eyes – only to come face-to-face with the man from the tourism bus this morning. His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, plucking the very words directly from her mind, hanging softly between them in the dim room.

"It's you…"